What Brothers Are For
by Hifi22
Summary: A one-shot songfic inspired by Con Man in the Meth Lab.


**Okay so since I saw "Con Man in the Meth Lab" and heard this song, the idea would not leave me alone. The song is called Brothers by Dean Brody and if you search for his name, the song is on his myspace page. I of course do not own Bones or the lyrics to the song. The POV switches from Jared to Booth and then back to Jared. Thanks for reading!**

**It was hot. One of those oppressive, sticky summer days in Philadelphia. The kind of day where your skin is always flushed and the sweat stains your t-shirt the same way raindrops or tears do. But it wasn't just the weather that was stifling. Today a different heaviness surrounded Jared Booth, as he drew a shaky breath and reached to open his bedroom door.**

_The house was like a tomb.  
I was hiding in my room.  
As my brother made his way on down the hall._

**He'd felt fear before as he'd venture into the upstairs hall. The kind that gripped his stomach, heart and all his other insides until he heard the cacophony of snores that he swears to this day, can only come from liquor induced slumber. But today the fear didn't feel so mechanical and vise-like. This fear was sour, toxic - all the more immobilizing and permanent. His brother was leaving. And leaving him behind.**

_I didn't want to say goodbye.  
And I was trying to deny there was a war,  
And that he got the call._

I watched him from my window  
Walking down the drive.  
Then I ran down the stairway  
Through the front door and I cried

**It wasn't about the beatings anymore. Truthfully, he hated himself for having that first panicked thought. He was growing bigger, stronger and harder to push around. Yet somehow he knew he'd never be as big, or as strong as Seeley – not realizing that wasn't his cross to bear. But as he raced down the stairs of their modest two-storey home, Jared Booth convinced himself that he damn well intended to prove himself to his big brother. How dare Uncle Sam take that away from him?**

_You come back you hear?  
And I let him see my tears  
I said I'll give you my rookie of DiMaggio.  
I'll do anything you want,  
Clean your room, or wash your car.  
I'll do anything so long as you don't go.  
But he said, this is what brothers are for._

**But as he watched that broad shouldered, army green uniform walk slowly down the drive, he broke under the weight of all that anger and immaturity. Roughly, he swung the screen door open as if it was the last of the collapse. The salt of the tears burned and threatened. And just when he thought his last defense was to beg and plead, he was rescued from his desperate last stand on the front porch. Because all it took was for that lone figure to turn, to block the sun and shield him from total failure. There was always a radiant strength in his raw grit and sincerity. Jared Booth's only sign of weakness that day was when his voiced cracked as he mumbled, "Come back in one piece eh?".**

_Well I have my heroes,  
But the one I love the most  
Taught me how to hunt and swing a bat.  
And I wrote him every night,  
I said I miss our pillow fights,  
But lately I just wonder where you're at._

**The letters from Jared were sporadic at best and mostly superficial as he described the events of his summer. Late evening ball games as the sun went down, lazy days at the lake and of course the girls he chased. But in the dusty sand of the desert, those images were real to Seeley Booth and made him feel closer and somehow further from home. As he laid waiting – facedown, with only the drum beat of his heart in his ears, he closed his eyes. He gave thanks to God, and to Jared. He was just grateful for the reprieve from the other images burned forever in recent memory. **

_Sometimes freedom makes it hard to live.  
When it takes things from you that you don't want to give._

I said you come back you hear?  
I miss you being near.  
Laugh and fish down in the maple grove

_I'll do anything you want.  
There must be someone I can call,  
And just maybe they would let you come back home.  
But he wrote, this is what brothers are for._

**He usually only wrote a line or two in return. He had decided from the start, no one wanted to hear about the darkness that was drifting around in his head. However, Jared's last letter made him want to say more. This letter was different, it was like Jared had run out of niceties and small talk and was only left with that awkward pause as you decide if you're going to confront the elephant in the room. He had started the letter by asking where Seeley was currently stationed. Then he wrote at length about how stupid this war was, if he was fighting it they would have already won and of course that he was going to call the "president himself and get him the hell back home.". It was full of bravado and impossible promises – so very Jared. Yet, the honesty of it all was there in his brother's messy handwriting. The older brother in him wanted nothing more than to write paragraphs to reassure him. But in the end it all came down to the one line he wrote back - "This is what brothers are for.". **

_I may never have to face the anger of those guns,  
Or lie cold and wounded in my blood,  
Or know the sacrifice and what it must of cost  
For him to love me that much._

Well, it had been two years,  
And I held back my tears  
When I saw him in that wheel chair on the shore.

**It was almost two years to the day – the weather cold and wet instead. Time had made Jared Booth stand a little taller, a little straighter, but he still couldn't see above the crowd that had gathered to wait on the black tarmac. He stood on tip-toe trying to catch a glimpse as he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned to see a familiar army green uniform expecting a familiar face but instead was met with stranger's eyes.**

**He nodded in response to the authoritative "Mr. Booth?" as the man stepped aside to reveal another uniformed man in a wheelchair, head bowed, feet clad in ratty, yellowed casts. The man raised his head and in the moment their eyes met, Jared Booth saw his brother, his roommate, his teacher, his coach, his friend - his hero. **

**And for the second time, his voice broke as took the handles of the wheelchair and whispered, "C'mon, let me drive for awhile….". **

_And as I ran and held him tight,  
That's when he looked me in the eye  
And said I'm sorry that you have to push me home.  
And I said hey, this is what brothers are for._

**Sorry if this seemed wordy or overly dramatic in a way. I'm not a very experienced writer but can't help it when ideas won't leave me alone! Thanks again!**


End file.
